


Just a Stranger

by ReaperRain



Series: Just a Series [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Slash, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperRain/pseuds/ReaperRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel request for 'Just a Negotiation'. Hawke invites a certain Antivan assassin over for a threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Stranger

**JUST A STRANGER**

-

It took a while to find him, doubly so without alerting Varric; the dwarf knew almost everything that took place in Kirkwall, and if he heard about Hawke looking for a certain elusive foreign assassin, he would definitely start asking questions. Ciardha considered himself an expert liar, but so was Varric, and he would know when he was being bullshitted. He would start paying close attention to Hawke's movements, notice the frequent evening trips to the Gallows, and it would all go downhill from there. If word ever got out about his arrangement with Kirkwall's First Enchanter – and he couldn't trust Varric not to gossip – then Orsino would never speak to him again.

It took a number of weeks and a few favours, but finally he managed to get in contact. He'd been royally tough to locate, but that was all you could expect of a Crow on the run from his own kind.

“Zevran,” he greeted warmly.

“Ah, Ciardha Hawke, wasn't it? A pleasure to make your acquaintance, again,” the assassin answered. Their last _acquaintance_ had certainly been very pleasurable, and Isabela had been very jealous when Hawke later told her all about it, in great detail. “I hear you went to great lengths to find me. Well, here I am.”

'Here' was a broken ship hull, dashed against the rocks of the Wounded Coast. It looked derelict from the outside, and within was half submerged in water and seaweed. But there was a small dry area in which a bedroll was set up, a crate with basic food supplies and a carefully-savoured bottle of Antivan brandy. It was no way to live, but an excellent way to hide.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” he told the elf, “Or... an offer, however you want to see it.”

“You need something assassinating?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. My – I suppose you could call him a 'lover' – has expressed an interest in a threesome. I wondered if you might be our participant.”

Zevran arched one eyebrow, a lascivious smirk tugging at his lips, “Hmm, that's quite an offer. But why me, might I ask? I know I'm ridiculously handsome, but this is a lot of trouble to go through just for a tumble.”

“Well, you see... we're not in a relationship so much as an 'arrangement'. We both get pleasure, and he gets my alliance, politically,” Hawke explained, “But it goes without saying that if anyone else found out, he'd get in trouble. That's why I need someone discreet, someone who isn't going to stay in Kirkwall too long. That you happen to be an excellent lover and easy on the eyes is just a nice bonus.”

The smirk widened, “You do know how to flatter, I'll give you that. Consider me intrigued, then. Who is this mystery politician you've managed to bed?”

“Are you familiar with First Enchanter Orsino?”

“Not personally, but I've heard of him. Elven, younger than some of his Senior Enchanters?” At Ciardha's nod, he gave a low chuckle, “I'm impressed, my friend. Rumour goes, it's difficult to get any kind of meeting with him, let alone one between the sheets.” He leaned forwards, voice consiprationally hushed for drama's sake, as there was no-one around to overhear: “So, what is he like?”

“Mmm, _fantastic._ Naturally submissive, but puts up just enough protests and hesitation to keep things interesting. He won't admit it, but he gets off on the humiliation, I think.”

“ _Well._ Are you sure you want to share him?”

Laughter, “I'm greedy with many things, but not lovers. And he's just too good not to pass around. So, do you want to?”

Zevran tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Sex with Kirkwall's most exclusive man and your rather skilled self? Hmm, let me think about that... why yes, I believe I _do_ want to. It certainly beats an evening sat alone in this dump.”

“Eh, I've seen worse.” Darktown, the Lowtown slums, the Alienage, the Hanged Man... most of Kirkwall, come to think of it. “You could even call this cosy. That might just be the company, mind you.”

“That so?” the Antivan's voice became a low purr, “You know, my bedroll is especially warm... and just big enough for two people.”

Ciardha grinned.

-

They met a few days later at the Gallows. It was late at night – well, technically very early in the morning, now midnight had passed – and templar patrols were few and far between, no match for two devious rogues. As soon as they had arranged a date and time, Hawke had passed the message along to Orsino to stay awake, though he'd given no reasons beyond 'a surprise'... a firm-bodied, golden-haired, sexy-accented surprise. Ciardha didn't consider himself much of an artist, but the mental composition of Orsino's milky porcelain skin against Zevran's deep tan made him practically salivate.

“Now remember, Orsino is a very distinguished, dignified man, which makes him a little... reluctant to debase himself,” Hawke whispered to Zevran as they passed through the silent halls of the Gallows, “He's beautiful when he lets go, but it takes a while to get him there. You'll have to start off just watching, wait until he's warmed up before you join in.”

“And supposing he refuses?”

“I'll make it up to you. I don't think he'll say no, though, especially with those nimble fingers of yours,” he added with a sidelong smirk.

They found Orsino in his office, seated at the desk. No paperwork – even by his overworked schedule, it was too late for that – but drumming his fingers impatiently against the surface, waiting for them. He stood as soon as he saw Hawke enter his office, posture tense and wary as he approached. “There you are. Why did you-” he froze, sensing another presence in the room, “Who is with you?”

“Ah,” Zevran sighed sorrowfully, materialising from the shadows next to Hawke – a trick favoured by rogues worldwide, “More perceptive than I thought. Clever man.”

Quickly deducing that Hawke had deliberately brought this stranger along, Orsino demanded, “Champion, what is the meaning of this?”

“A while back I mentioned moving onto more adventurous things,” he remarked, tone nonchalant, “I thought a third person would be a good start.”

“You want a-?! No! Absolutely not.”

Ciardha raised a single eyebrow, “You do want my alliance, don't you?”

“Will you stop using that – Hawke, this arrangement is between the two of us, no-one else. He shouldn't even know about it, what if he tells someone?”

“He won't.”

“I'm very trustworthy,” Zevran chimed in helpfully, “We Crows are trained to never impart information, you know. Even if tortured and such.”

Orsino paled – well, moreso than usual, anyway, “You're a Crow?”

“Was a Crow. I left,” the Antivan corrected him, “I still excel in keeping silent, however. Your reputation is quite safe.”

“Besides which, he won't be in Kirkwall long,” Ciardha told Orsino, “He just arrived from Antiva, and is staying here until he can get a ship back to Ferelden.”

Zevran nodded, “To see a certain Warden Commander, not that the Crows know that. There see, now you have one of my secrets just as I have one of yours, yes?”

Truthfully, if any more Crows chased Zevran, they wouldn't need trackers to figure out that he'd gone back to his Grey Warden. Still, the intention was to give Orsino the feeling of leverage, therefore security, and Ciardha appreciated that. It successfully relaxed the tightly-wound mage, enough for Ciardha to work on persuasion: “He's the perfect choice. Just a stranger, a visitor, a foreigner... no strings, no blackmail, no repercussions. So what do you say?”

He could see Orsino's resolve visibly wavering but still, he hesitated. “I – I'm not sure about this...”

“He doesn't need to participate, just watch-” here Hawke drew closer, his stride sultry and sensual, designed to leave Orsino feeling weak, “-While I do indescribably naughty things to you. I _know_ you like the idea of a voyeur, and you know? So do I.”

When Ciardha was near enough to run his hand up Orsino's slender neck, across his jaw, there was an audible intake of breath and a nervous glance over at Zevran... who leaned casually against the door, looking on not with disdain, or the kind of hungry lust that would make others uncomfortable, but simple, appreciative intrigue. Perhaps that was what pushed him over the edge, enough to finally concede: “...Alright. I'll do it.”

“Very good,” Ciardha murmured, pleased, then turned to Zevran to instruct him: “Drag a chair in front of the door. I doubt anyone will come visiting at this time, but just as a precaution.”

The Antivan did so, sitting on it for good measure, and so he could more comfortably enjoy the show. Ciardha intended to give a good performance, trailing the tip of his tongue along Orsino's jawline and up his tapered ear, finishing with a playful nip. It worked a treat, as always; even with the tense anxiety he could feel in the other man, Orsino tipped his head back to grant him better access, lips parting slightly but no sound coming out. Well, that wouldn't do. While he was distracted, Ciardha surreptitiously worked on the various clasps and ties of the First Enchanter's robes, loosening the material enough to slip his hands beneath. He located a nipple, felt it pebble under his ministrations, then pinched it without warning. Orsino's yelp made him silently smirk in victory.

“Robes off,” he demanded, pushing the heavy folds of velvet back from Orsino's shoulders. He could see the worry in those fascinatingly green eyes – in all their other trysts the robes had stayed on, partially in case anyone knocked at the door, partially because it had never been necessary for either of them to be naked. It had been a few months since their first negotiation, and Hawke still hadn't seen Orsino fully bared. But now... “We have an audience. Can't have clothes getting in the way, can we?”

With a shallow, barely-there nod that reflected his hesitation, Orsino shrugged the outer layer off, the cropped jacket with the wide, red-lined hood. Hawke moved around the back to help him, and so as not to obstruct Zevran's view. More importantly, he wanted Orsino to _see_ himself being appreciated. Draping the jacket over a nearby chair, he stepped up behind the other man so they pressed together, chest to back. Clever hands snaked around his narrow waist to unbuckle his belt, then remove the next black coat; the robes already showed off Orsino's figure, but without the main bulk of material he looked even leaner. He saw Zevran shift forwards in his chair in anticipation, and knew Orsino had noticed it too.

Having undone the throat-clasps of Orsino's high-collared shirt earlier, he gave the command for its removal. The mage obediently pulled it over his head, leaving his silvered hair dishevelled and messy. Only his dark under-robe remained, made of the same heavy, draping velvet as his hooded jacket. Strangely Hawke could neither see nor – if he slid his hands along the elf's sides – feel any kind of waistband beneath.

“Are you wearing any breeches?” he asked, surprised.

“N-no.” _Oh_ , but if that didn't make Hawke shiver with delight. “It's just – you said 'a surprise' and I thought it might save time-”

“Sshh, no need to get nervous. I like it,” he ran his fingers over the plush fabric, imagining how soft it must've felt against exposed skin, especially the more... _sensitive_ areas. “You should do it more often. Go the whole day with your robes on and nothing underneath.”

“I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“It's... improper.”

Ciardha chuckled darkly, “If it isn't improper, it isn't worth doing.”

Without any belts to hold it in place, the simple black robe opened easily, first baring the smooth, elegant slope of Orsino's shoulders, then his chest, his stomach, his hips... sure enough, there was nothing beneath but milky skin – that, and his still-present gloves and boots, which Ciardha began to remove.

“Mmm, leave those on,” Zevran called out, his first words since the start of the strip show. His voice was low and lusty, helped along by his thick Antivan accent. At Ciardha's inquiring look, he explained: “I have a thing for well-made leather. Besides, leaving on a few pieces of clothing can be arousing, no?”

“As you wish.” He _did_ look good, stood there bare but for his hands and feet. His face was tinged pink and he stared at the ground self-consciously, fingers twitching as though he were fighting the urge to try and cover himself. And yet, even as he cringed away from their gazes his pupils had widened, breath a little heavier than usual. Then, of course, there was the most obvious display of his arousal, a half-hard cock, though Ciardha hadn't laid a finger on it yet. He _knew_ Orsino had a voyeur fetish.

“Sit on the desk,” Ciardha instructed and Orsino did so demurely, thighs tucked together so as to hide what was between them. Tch, that was no good at all. “Legs spread.”

Orsino glanced over at Zevran nervously. His knees were still clamped together.

“ _Orsino._ I gave you an order, not a request.”

“I-I can't,” the man stammered out, cheeks reddening as he shook his head, “It's too embarrassing.”

Ah, that little thing called _Dignity._ It was endearing most of the time, the way it caused Orsino to fumble and falter – it made the final result, getting the man to relax and enjoy himself for once – all the sweeter. But now, when he had a guest he was trying to impress, it was incredibly annoying. Luckily he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

“Perhaps you need an incentive, then?” he asked faux-innocently, before dropping to his knees, causing Orsino's eyes to widen. Up until now Ciardha had never displayed any kind of submissiveness, namely because he wasn't a very submissive person, with little regard for any rules placed on him both in and out of the bedroom. But that didn't mean he couldn't _give_ pleasure just as well as he could _receive_ it.

“Hawke,” the mage began, bewildered, as Hawke pressed his mouth against the inside of his ankle, peppering kisses, working upwards, “What are you doing?”

“You'll see,” was the cryptic answer, “Providing you open your legs so I can keep moving, that is.”

Curiosity won over hesitance, and Orsino parted his legs slightly so Ciardha could kiss his way up to the knee, while his free hand idly stroked along the outside. A nudge and he spread them further, further more as Ciardha worked along his inner thighs, all lips and tongue and teeth, careful not to leave any lasting marks. His dick twitched at the attention and anticipation of having a hot, wet mouth so nearby. Unbidden, a small moan escaped him, which he immediately stifled, mortified.

Ciardha had absolutely no intention of letting that be the last sound he wrangled out of Orsino tonight. Peering up at the other man, with his best come-hither look and his sultriest voice, he asked: “Do you want me to suck your cock, Orsino?”

He got a wide-eyed stare, equal parts reluctance and eagerness, and a breathless, “ _Yes._ ”

Ciardha laughed and gave the head a single, teasing lick, “Then I will... after you display yourself to our audience.”

Orsino gave him a pleading look, but when Hawke didn't relent, he swallowed and inclined his head. Slowly but surely, his thighs parted wide to reveal his now fully-erect cock, his scrotum and, just about visible, the tight crease of his entrance. Ciardha stood from his kneeling position and moved to the side, affording Zevran an unparalleled view of the goods. Later, he hoped, his friend would be able to touch as well as look, but he had to proceed carefully, one step at a time.

“So what do you think?” he remarked, this time solely addressing Zevran. He ran a finger covetously down Orsino's length, making him shudder, “Isn't he beautiful?”

“ _Very,_ ” agreed the Antivan, raking his eyes over Orsino's form – who squirmed, embarrassed, but his pre-come leaking dick suggested he wasn't wholly opposed to the objectification. “Quite enthralling. In fact – may I, ah, _attend_ to myself, as I watch?”

“You may. Don't come, though.” Hawke observed as Zevran adjusted his leather armour, drawing out his cock. _Enthralled_ was one way of putting it. Turning back to Orsino, he smiled sweetly, “See what you've done to him? You're so very captivating when you're enjoying yourself.”

“Don't,” he protested weakly, but his eyes were firmly trained on Zevran's length, as deeply tanned as the rest of him, and swelling as nimble fingers played along it. At least they were until Ciardha bent over Orsino, hands braced against the desk, to swallow up his aching hardness. A shocked cry at the sudden sensation – there was no gently start or gradual build-up, Ciardha charged right in with characteristic boldness. He could just make out, in his peripheral vision, Orsino glancing frantically between him and Zevran, unsure where to divert his attention.

He bent lower still, spine arching as he moved to take more of Orsino into his mouth. Zevran couldn't see what was happening, he knew, so he swayed his hips slightly, giving the man something to look at. Jethann and the other Rose prostitutes had taught him the importance of what could be heard, and so he moaned deeply around the cock, the resulting vibrations causing its owner to gasp and buck. His head bobbed back and forth, cheeks hollowed so as to create all manner of obscene sucking and slurping sounds. His efforts earned a deep groan from behind him, and although he couldn't see, Ciardha could easily picture Zevran sat, legs parted just as Orsino's were, firmly stroking his stiffening cock to the tune of Ciardha's mouth.

He wasn't the only one making noise. Despite Orsino's best efforts to stay quiet, the attentions to his body brought forth small moans and panting breaths. His hips thrust involuntarily, his legs trembled, his hands clenched so tight that his leather gloves creaked with the strain. Ciardha could read the approaching orgasm in the motions of his body, the erratic pattern of his vocals. And then, when he knew Orsino was right on the brink, so lost in the ecstasy that he couldn't even stammer out a warning... Ciardha pulled back, fingers clamped vice-like around the base of the man's shaft.

Orsino made a strangled sound as his climax was cut off with devastating precision. The agony was written clearly over his face, and it was only after some desperate squirming and flailing that Orsino's eyes unclouded, lucidity returning.

“ _You_ almost came,” Hawke tutted, letting go of the length so he could wag a disapproving finger, “Bad, _bad_ First Enchanter. I think you need to be punished.”

“Punished?” any lingering resentment for the denied finish was swiftly replaced by trepidation.

“Mm-hmm. Zevran, come over here.”

Zevran rose from his chair, gracefully stepping out of his smalls and kicking them to one side as he did so. His erection was clearly visible under the skirt of his leather armour, jutting out unashamedly. Ciardha saw Orsino redden further and avert his gaze, but there was no disgust or loathing in his eyes. Possibly even a hint of desire.

“Our patient guest deserves more than just a show, don't you think?” Ciardha said silkily, this time addressing Orsino, “Which is why you should get on your knees and demonstrate a more... hands-on approach.”

“Y-ou want me to touch him?”

“Why not? It's not as though you haven't been staring for the past ten minutes.”

Orsino bit his lip in apprehension, but submissively sank to his knees, reaching out with trembling hands. A groan from Zevran as his hardness was touched – more for Orsino's benefit than his own, but it had the desired effect. Timid touches became bolder strokes, rubbing the entire length of the cock, trailing down to play with the sac. Ciardha was immensely enjoying the sight, but he had to hurry this along; he had faith in Zevran's endurance, but Orsino could only hold out for so long. Frankly he wasn't far off his own climax either, and he hadn't even touched himself yet.

“On all fours,” he commanded, a hand pressed insistently against Orsino's back to guide him. Zevran, quick on the uptake as always, lowered himself as well so Orsino could still touch him with one hand. Ciardha also descended, reaching into his belt where he kept the ever-present bottle of lubricant. He oiled his hand up, then pressed the first finger into Orsino's entrance.

The mage yelped and bucked, having not seen Hawke's actions behind him, “Wh-what are you doing?”

Hawke raised an eyebrow, unfazed, “What does it look like?”

“But-”

“You can service two people at once, can't you? That's really the whole point of a threesome.”

“...Fine,” Orsino sighed at last, defeated, turning to continue his attentions on Zevran.

“Use your tongue as well,” it was more of a suggestion than a order, but the Enchanter leaned in, licking tentatively around the head of the shaft. Pleased, Ciardha watched them as he attended to his own task, carefully working his finger inside Orsino's body. Once the ring of muscle had adjusted and stopped clenching so tightly around him, he moved the digit around, loosening it enough for another finger to be added. Pumping in and out, carefully scissoring... and then, without warning, crooking inwards to scrape across the sensitive little bundle of nerves known as the prostate. Orsino half-gasped, half-moaned, and Ciardha couldn't help but feel proud.

“Like that?” he asked, firmly stroking over it again, “I'll give you more... provided you use your mouth on our lovely guest.”

There was a pause, but Hawke had noticed them growing steadily less lengthy throughout the night. He took the head of Zevran's cock between his lips, and the Antivan's resulting throaty moan didn't sound all that staged. Sun-kissed hands threaded through silver hair, not tugging, just caressing. And Ciardha resumed, three fingers now shifting in and out, curling against the prostate. He could see Orsino's cock, now an angry red in colour, straining and twitching warningly, ready to topple over the edge... his free hand snaked underneath between the slender thighs and clenched tightly, preventing any finish. Orsino groaned piteously as he was denied once more, but he continued sucking Zevran, taking a few more inches into his mouth.

“Good?” he asked the receiver.

“ _More_ than good,” Zevran panted out, “I've paid for mouths less talented than this.”

“He gets plenty of practise,” Ciardha answered, not quite able to keep the smugness out of his tone. “Do you want to stick with his mouth or finish down here?”

Zevran's glance at Orsino's backside was longing, but held a hint of hesitation, “Is it... permitted?”

“Hmm.” He shifted around to the Enchanter's side so he could speak into his ear: “What do you say? Will you let Zevran give you a good, hard fucking?”

Orsino pulled back from Zevran, his silver-green eyes widened, “I, I'm not sure...”

“It's not so different to letting him use your mouth,” Ciardha remarked, in the carefully nonchalant tone he used whenever he wanted something, “And you would enjoy it, I think. Zevran is very skilled.”

Had he not been paying such close attention, he might've missed it, but at last, Orsino nodded.

“Such a good host,” Hawke murmured affectionately, placing a kiss against the elf's cheek. “Alright Zev, switch places.”

“You're sure about this?” the Crow asked him, walking around with erection still exposed, shining wetly with saliva.

Hawke gave him a grin, “Guests come first. Don't take too long, mind.”

While Zevran oiled himself up for good measure, Ciardha unlaced his own breeches. His cock, which had been straining against the confinement for most of the night, sprung forth already fully hard and reddened. He guided it to that unresisting mouth, pushing it past narrow lips. Now accustomed to the length, Orsino swallowed him with little difficulty, tongue and throat immediately getting to work.

Even if he hadn't seen Zevran ease himself forwards, he could _feel_ the exact moment when he entered Orsino: every muscle tensed up, throat constricting beautifully around his cock. Then an abrupt relaxation as the girth of the head passed through his sphincter, the worst of it bypassed. Zevran was still on the generous side size-wise, especially for an elf, and he could easily imagine how tight of a squeeze it was down there, even with the careful preparation. A bead of sweat rolled down Zevran's brow, which was furrowed in concentration as he pressed in deeper, until he was all the way to the hilt.

“There we go. One man's cock in your arse, the other in your mouth. Debauchery feels good, doesn't it?” Ciardha purred, stroking Orsino's face, hot to the touch and slick from perspiration. Half-lidded, lust-darkened eyes looked back at him, Orsino was beyond any shame now. In all his years and many, many partners, Hawke had never seen anything quite like it, and never experienced such satisfaction at knowing he was the cause.

Zevran pulled out, then pushed back in again, and Orsino's eyes almost rolled back – he must've hit the prostate. The force of Zevran's motions shoved him back and forth along Hawke's cock, letting it hit the back of his throat without protest, each small groan of pleasure he gave sinking directly into Hawke's flesh. The only break from his constant bliss-addled expression was the grimace of pain when he approached climax again, and Zevran swiftly cut him off with a well-placed pinch.

The Antivan's thrusts increased in speed and robustness as he neared his own end. Finally he shoved in all the way, jerking Orsino forwards so his nose pressed against Hawke's pelvis, length so far down his throat that he coughed and spluttered around it. A long, low moan from Zevran as he spent himself, which gave way to a dreamy, sated expression.

When he pulled out, Orsino drew back from Hawke and pleaded, “Please, please let me...”

“Let you what?”

“Let me come...”

A smile. At last, no hesitation. Not that he didn't find Orsino's hesitation a large part of his charm, but fucking the reluctance right out of him was what he lived for. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He stood, padded around to the back and wasted no time in pushing his length inside. He was wet from the blowjob, Orsino was still well-oiled and now had Zevran's seed leaking from him for extra slickness, so he had no trouble thrusting forwards. He was nicely stretched but not gaping, and since Ciardha was, as a human, bigger than Zevran, he could still feel a resounding tightness. Perhaps some people would be putt off by feeling another man's still-warm spend in there, but Ciardha had always fondly shared his lovers.

Worked up as he already was, it didn't take long for him to approach his finish. He dutifully continued slamming against Orsino's sweet spot until the older man gasped and panted and finally _sobbed_ out his climax, entire body tightening gloriously around Hawke, delayed come spurting across his floor in considerable volume. It signalled Hawke to stop holding back and join the ecstasy, stiffening as he poured into Orsino's hot, wet, willing orifice, mixing with Zevran's deposit.

And then, it was over.

Exhausted, exhilarated, he pulled out, staggering a little as he righted himself. It took a while for his vision to clear and his ears to stop ringing, harsh, panting breaths to return to normal. Glancing over at Zevran, he found him in a similar state, but Orsino was even worse, collapsed onto his side and still gasping for air like a drowning man. Normally he would just leave after finishing his business, but he looked ready to pass out at any moment. Then, when someone found him the next day, still unconscious on the floor, naked but for gloves and boots and with dried come everywhere, he could safely say that he might never see Orsino again. Naturally, after the sex he’d just had, he was keen to prevent such an occurrence.

Once he and Zevran were reasonably presentable, he re-dressed Orsino in his black under-robe and belt, draping the other articles over his arm; the mage was awake but just barely, blinking blearily at them both. Avoiding any patrols, they carried him to his quarters... funny, after all these months, they still hadn't had sex in Orsino's actual bedroom yet. It was too small and spartan for Hawke's tastes anyway, he made a mental note to smuggle Orsino into his mansion one day and show him what a proper bed looked like, and _felt_ like. First Enchanter and clothing safely deposited, Hawke and Zevran left the Gallows once more, as silently as they had arrived.

“Well,” Zevran announced when they were on dry land and out of earshot, “I'm not sure what I did to deserve that, but it must've been _very_ good,”

Ciardha gave a low chuckle, “It was as much of a reward for him, I suspect. And me, of course. A pity you aren't staying in Kirkwall much longer...”

“You know how it is. Grey Wardens to see, maybe talk into a threesome. Preferably not with First Enchanter Irving, though,” his grin was wicked. “So, do I get a good night kiss?”

Parting kisses should've been more chaste, Hawke was certain, and involved less tongue and groping. But he forgave him, because he had a terrible weakness for pretty faces and sexy voices. He bid him farewell at the Wounded Coast, watching him head for his broken ship hull hideout. Then he too returned home, back to his Hightown mansion, humming all the way.


End file.
